


Whiteout Affair

by QuillMind



Series: Clandestine [10]
Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Injury, Caretaking, Comfort, Doctor/Patient, F/M, Loneliness, One Night Stands, Other, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Smut, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: During the first World War, the mysterious Japanese spy codenamed "Magician" was captured by the Germans.  After making a desperate escape, he found you, living in an isolated house alone.  With the promise that he'll be gone as soon as he's able and will not tell anyone of your location, you allow him to stay and nurse his wounds.  Despite the uneasy introduction, a connection forms, and you discover respite from the world in each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh ma gaaaaaad, I've finally finished this, the last story in the Clandestine series! Yuuki's story was always going to be the last one, because I liked Yuuki so much from the start, but when I saw the young version of him in ep 11, well that was just a (っ˘ڡ˘ς) moment right there.

The hunting lodge you were staying in was inherited from your father when he died almost a decade ago.  With no one else in your family to look after it, the place would have fallen into disrepair.  Whenever you came here in the fall with your father, he had always made it a point to inspect every inch of the structure, fixing whatever problems there were and clearing the leaves and overgrown shrubbery from the property.  Now you had taken over that mantle by yourself, and kept your father alive in the process.   
  
This had turned out to be a wise choice, as recent years revealed; living in the city was too worrisome and dangerous, with as much to fear from desperate neighbours as there was from soldiers.  The lodge, being stowed away deep in the forest, gave you a much-desired respite from the war-torn world.   
  
The fall months had just started yet temperatures had dropped drastically.  You were glad that you had gotten your mother's careful and thrifty nature, and stocked up well in advance on supplies and food; basic amenities such as soap, coal and sugar were at an immense premium now, and fresh eggs and dairy were almost never seen anymore.  You would still have to ration your items carefully, as there was no way to know when this war would end, but at least you wouldn't be starving or freezing to death.   
  
To prevent your stores from running down too fast, you went hunting whenever you could, and just today had managed to kill two rabbits.  On the way home it had started snowing, and you had grabbed the last remaining apples and pears that had fallen from the trees in the yard; they were the ones that were at the very top, and had been impossible for you to reach when you were harvesting days ago.    
  
By nightfall, the snow only became heavier, and the windows rattled from the wind.  You had just finished skinning the rabbits, and had tossed the meat into a cooking pot on the stove filled with other vegetables, edible weeds and plants; the fur you could use later.  You were about to clean the kitchen when a couple of hard thumps of the door startled you.   
  
"Open up, please."   
  
A man's voice.  Speaking German.   
  
The man knocked again--the time between each thump suggested that he must be tired, or hurt.    
  
Or acting.   
  
"Open up, please," the voice said breathlessly, as if each word were a herculean task to say.  "I know someone's in there."   
  
Pulling a wool cloak over your shoulders, you approached the door slowly, making sure not to make a sound on the floor with your shoes.  From the wall you picked up your father's hunting rifle.   
  
Three more knocks, a little quieter this time.   
  
"I don't mean any harm."  
  
A quick check to make sure the rifle was loaded, and you steadied yourself.  "Who are you?" you asked in a low, gravelly tone, trying to give the impression of being an older woman.   
  
The wind whistled sharply and competed against the man's voice to be heard.  "Please... I need help."   
  
You considered your options, and finally made a decision.  You undid the lock, loud enough so that he could hear.   
  
"It's unlocked," you said, backing up a step.  "You can come in."  Your finger rested on the trigger.  
  
A rush of snow and freezing wind gusted in as the heavy door flung open, revealing a single man who staggered in and leaned back to close it behind him.  Upon seeing him, your eyes widened.   
  
He was an Asian man, somewhere in his thirties, you guessed.  Surprisingly tall, his dark, long hair fell over knife-narrow eyes almost enough to cover them, and he had a severely-shaped face with cheekbones that looked sharp enough to cut your fingers on.  He was hunched over--the coat covered his shoulders, but only his right arm was through the sleeve, while the other was crumpled and saturated in blood.   
  
You held your breath.   
  
He was gripping his left arm tightly and had bunched up the sleeve of his coat to absorb the blood so that he wouldn't drip onto the snow, but his skin was already sickly pale--he must have lost a lot already.  You guessed that his left hand was completely gone, but probably not from something as clean as a blade, judging by the unevenness of the dressing.   
  
"Thank you," he said, in a thin voice.  Then he collapsed on the floor.   
  
You were dumbstruck.  What could you do?  What should you do?  A man that had been running for what must have been a while through this weather with this level of injury was surely being pursued.  On top of it all, he was wearing a German officer's coat--clearly not his.  So was he a criminal?  An enemy soldier?  But he was wearing civilian clothes underneath, and those appeared to be his.  So who was he, then?   
  
With a frustrated grunt, you put the rifle back on the wall mount and urged the man to get up, swinging his arm over your shoulder.  He did not seem conscious when he stood up, more like a marionette that was being pulled by its last remaining string, but with your encouragement he made it to your room, where you let him drop onto your bed.   
  
You quickly lit some lamps and brought them closer.  The man had been brutally beaten, with bruises forming everywhere and bloodstains of varying age covering his head and soaked into his clothes.  His complexion was grey.   
  
You were moving before you knew it.   
  
In the kitchen you filled the biggest pot you had with water and set it to boil, while grabbing all the clean rags you had.  Your room had its own fireplace, into which you tossed several logs and poured a tiny bit of lamp oil to quickly get a blaze going.  The linen closet was raided for blankets and sheets, and you did a quick check on the rabbit stew that you had going before lowering the heat to a simmer.  By the time you had everything you needed, the bedroom was glowing and warm.   
  
It had been an awful sight when you removed the coat from the man's body.  His left arm was a bloody mess, and pieces of wood and steel punctured his torso like a pincushion--an explosive wound.  Parts of the coat stuck to the mangled stump from the cold of the blizzard and all the pressure the man had been applying, and you were grateful that he was passed out so he did not have to feel the pain of you pulling the pieces off like taffy from a window.   
  
You sorely wished you had read more of your father's medical notes and gone with him on more of his house calls--proper medical knowledge was what this man needed right now, but all he was going to get was your gap-filled unofficial one.  You kept looking at his face for any change, becoming afraid so many times that he died at some point while you were looking away since he was so still, but his chest continued to rise and fall all throughout.   
  
When you had removed all the shrapnel that you could find, you gently wiped the arm with a towel sterilized in the boiled water, then finished it with some Dakin's solution before tightly wrapping it in the clean rags as dressing.  Sighing, you sagged back in your chair and cast a glance out the window.  The storm had passed, but snow continued to fall like feathers.   
  
You took this opportunity to add more wood to the fire, which had burned down to a faint glow.  Then you patched up the remaining minor injuries the man had, and removed his clothes to be washed, keeping your eyes averted as much as possible.  A hot cloth to clean the blood and grime off of him, and then you pulled several layers of blankets over him so that he would be warm.   
  
Dragging yourself to the kitchen, you washed all of the tools you used, as well as your own hands, as thoroughly as possible with the minimal amount of soap required.  Your bloody apron you simply tossed into the laundry basket; if soldiers came and you were asked about it, you could just say it was from the rabbits you were skinning, which wasn't entirely untrue.  By now, your eyes were half-lidded.  You lifted the lid off of the stew pot--the vegetables and rabbit meat had become so softened, it was more like a thick soup than a stew.   
  
You quietly slid an old rocking chair across the floor to be beside the bed, and wrapped yourself in several blankets before sitting down.  Your mother sat in this chair so many times, holding you when you were a baby.   
  
With that memory in mind, you watched the man's sleeping face until you also drifted into dreams.   
  
****  
  
A soft weight on your lap roused you, but the ticklish sensation of whiskers in your face was what really made you wake up.   
  
"Nnn, what is it?" you muttered while rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.   
  
The cat only stared at you silently, his round face turning at an angle inquisitively.   
  
You looked at the bed and saw the man, and the previous night's events came flooding back.  Gently petting Herzog a few times before setting him down, you shed your cocoon of blankets and stood up to check on your patient.  Still alive.  His colour was a little better, and though he felt slightly warm, it didn't appear to be a serious enough fever to be life-threatening.   
  
The cat jumped up onto the bed and took a few steps towards the stranger.   
  
"Shh, don't bother him" you said quietly, giving your friend an affectionate rub behind his ears.  Outside, it was already morning.  The snow had stopped, but it looked like at least another twenty centimeters had fallen since your guest had first arrived.  At least that should mean his tracks were covered up, you hoped.   
  
A grey tail swishing around caught your eye and you turned.  The cat was perched right beside the man, staring at him curiously like he was a fascinating new discovery.  His yellow eyes then met yours and seemed to ask, _Who is this?_  
  
"I wish I knew," you said with a sigh.  "In the meantime, why don't we get some breakfast, hmm?  I guess I can give you a tiny bit of stew, but you'd better not be slacking off in catching mice!"   
  
You were met with silence, but you didn't have to look back to know that your feline companion was right behind you as you left the bedroom.   
  
****  
  
He was awake when you returned.  Despite knowing nothing about him, you found yourself smiling at that a little, and had to force neutrality back into your features as you approached.   
  
"Good morning," you said politely, standing beside your rocking chair, close to him but not enough to be touched.  "How are you feeling?"   
  
The man squeezed his eyes shut a few times, then brought his right hand up to place on his forehead.  He was still lying down, but had moved so that his arms were out and rested on top of the blankets.  "I've seen better days.  I'm assuming this is the morning after I first arrived here?"   
  
Hearing it again, you were quite impressed with how impeccable his German was for an Asian person.  There was even a bit of a Hamburg accent to it.   
  
"You're right," you answered, letting some silence pass between you.  The covers were lower on him now, exposing his bare upper chest.  Even though you were the one that had undressed him and tended to his body, it was only now with the immediate danger out of the way that you found yourself trying not to blush and think of how it had looked.  "How about you tell me your name?"   
  
"Koushaku," he said.   
  
Was that a proper Japanese name?  Was it a first name or surname?  You weren't certain, and had no real way of checking.  You figured that he might use a fake name--who wouldn't in his position, after all--but he had said the name without hesitation, his eyes didn't flicker around and his mouth didn't gape a little like someone who was trying to throw together a story.   
  
"What's your name?" he asked, in a somewhat perfunctory tone.   
  
You stared at him as you answered.  "I don't suppose you'll tell me who you are and how you ended up with an officer's coat and a blown-off arm?"   
  
He met your gaze and you stiffened.  There was a flash of icy coolness, a supernatural level of analytic intelligence and shrewdness, but also a fiery determination that not at all like the weary and cornered look that you'd seen the night before.  Then it disappeared, and he was docile once more.  "You're honestly better off not knowing."   
  
Another silence, this time far longer and tense.  You agreed that you didn't really want to know the circumstances of this man's capture and escape; if you did, it could potentially make you a target if and when his captors came here.   
  
"I did the best I could with treating your wounds," you said, "but you lost a fair bit of blood, and there was a lot of shrapnel in your body.  I think I got it all.  You didn't seem to have any broken bones, but the beating you took won't make it very realistic for you to be moving around much for a while."   
  
The man gave the tiniest of nods, looking not at all surprised at any of this.   
  
"You can stay here until you're well enough to move," you continued, "but as soon as you're able, I want you gone.  And if you touch me, you'll be seeing that rifle again."  The floorboards creaked as you turned and walked to the door.  
  
"I won't hurt you, I already promised that yesterday," he said gently.   
  
"People lie."  Then, feeling guilty about ending on that note, you added, "I'll bring you some food.  And some clothes."  
  
"What did you do with the coat and my shirt?"  
  
"Cut them into pieces and burned them.  There's a cat here, too--his name's Herzog."  
  
****  
  
The interrogations had been lengthy and trying, but nothing Yuuki couldn't handle.  His mask as a clueless innocent wrongfully accused stayed on all throughout, at least until the enemy had spoken his real name.   
  
Then, like a woken predator, his eyes had changed.   
  
Yet he still said nothing, not even the slightest of details, no matter how hard they hit him, no matter how many threats and insults they hurled at him.  And the longer it took, the more frustrated the soldiers became, teeth grinding and language deteriorating into curses and shouts.   
  
The smart thing would have been to stay silent and unresponsive.  But Yuuki couldn't resist giving a superior smirk to Wolff, the young German officer in charge of his interrogation.  Even if it got him a concussion, his youth and arrogance compelled him to show that he was undefeated.   
  
And he showed that same defiant look again as he held the potato masher grenade above his head before it granted his freedom, in exchange for his hand.   
  
Killing the two guards standing outside the barn was unavoidable, though Yuuki still wished there had been another way.  He was now known by the Germans as having killed two of their men, which meant they would be more driven than ever to hunt him down.  The blizzard that had been raging at the time was a blessing, since his tracks could be more quickly hidden, and the soldiers, on top of their injuries and disorientation from the grenade blast, would be less capable of organizing a search.  The level of his training and own mental fortitude was such that he could ignore the freezing cold and agonizing pain of his arm for far longer than most, but it would only last for so long.   
  
But before it got to that point, he had found your hunting lodge.  Buried deep in the forest, Yuuki had stumbled across it as if he'd known its location from the very beginning, and steeled himself before pounding on the door.  And while he had been met with a rifle barrel in his face and could tell that you weren't bluffing about using it, he could not have felt more grateful in that moment just before he passed out.   
  
He had regained consciousness not long after you'd left the room in the late morning, and silently took stock of his surroundings.  The hunting lodge was old, but tasteful in its adornments, and Yuuki noticed a few areas in your bedroom that looked a little more faded, like the reminder of things that used to be there.  There were no other sounds in the house besides one set of footsteps, and you yourself had been plainly dressed.  He deduced that you were probably a once-rich girl, now living in solitude, and had, as you'd done with your own self, discarded the fancier, luxurious things you once had in favour of frugality as well as avoiding scrutiny.  A young, unmarried woman with no other family was especially vulnerable, so you were living here, hidden in the woods with the intent of avoiding people as much as possible.  
  
Which made you ideal for his purposes of hiding out.  He could get you to cooperate with him if it meant keeping your privacy and safety, not to say that he'd had any ill intent towards you to begin with.  If he forced himself to, he could probably get out of bed and maybe even get to the nearest town, but the risk of being found was too great, and he stood out far too much as is by being Japanese.  No, the best course of action was to stay here and regain his strength.   
  
He stared at his left limb.  Everything below the elbow was gone, the remaining upper arm thickly wrapped in bandages.  More disturbing than the pain was how much lighter his left side now felt.  His entire body was off-kilter. 

He was determined to make it home alive, but he knew that his life doing field work was finished.  To be missing an appendage was far too compromising for an agent.  Still, he could be useful in other ways--to ensure that what happened to him would never happen to another, if nothing else.   
  
Yuuki felt a weird taste in his mouth that made him furrow his brow.  Was it foolish of him to still be so driven to aid his country after they had cast him aside?  Perhaps.  He could just go somewhere else.  Start a new life under a new identity; he was certainly capable of doing so anywhere in the world.  But then, he didn't want others to go through the same thing he had.  Young men, be they soldiers or spies, shouldn't have to pay the price for his own petty grudge against the country.   
  
He would return to Japan, alive and with his mission completed.   
  
And he would make sure they never forgot it.   
  
A dark mass was suddenly in Yuuki's peripheral vision, and he turned towards it.  A Chartreux cat, charcoal grey, had hopped onto the bedside and was now staring at him.   
  
Herzog, you'd said his name was.  The German word for "duke."  Yuuki could not help a slight snort of laughter.   
  
Herzog himself found no humour in this situation, continuing to study the man.  He was anticipating the unpleasant moment when the human would reach out and presume that he wanted to be touched, which would be followed immediately by him turning away in irritation, or, if he was having a bad day, a sharp scratch with his claws.  But Yuuki made no such move, already having stopped paying attention to the cat and absently keeping his eyes on the ceiling. 

_Ignoring_ me _?_   Herzog was intrigued and stepped closer, yet the man still paid him no mind.   
  
"I see you two have met."   
  
Both cat and man turned to look at you, standing in the doorway with an old wooden tray and some clothes hung over your arm.   
  
The tray was set down on the nightstand, and Yuuki was impressed by the bounty that you had: a rich stew with real meat--rabbit, he surmised--a bowl of dried fruit and nuts with some condensed milk, a ripe apple and pear, both sliced, and mugs of tea.  After months of swill that was being passed off as food with flavour and nutritional value that was bland and somewhat filling at best and horrid and did more harm than good at worst, this humble spread looked worthy of royalty.   
  
You held out the clothes that had been draped over your arm.  "These belonged to my father," you said, "so they're a little old, but they should fit you."  Your suspicion that this man was a fiercely self-reliant sort was proven correct as he promptly set about dressing himself, but when his movements slowed and his eyes narrowed in pain as he struggled with his left side, he did not protest in you helping him.  The clothes did fit, if a little small, but they were in good condition and looked worn, which would help him to blend in when he was in a crowd.   
  
Given his lack of a hand, Yuuki didn't have much of a choice besides letting you feed him.  After helping him into a sitting position, you pulled up your rocking chair and picked up the bowl.  You went slowly, blowing on each spoonful of stew once or twice before bringing it to his mouth, not minding that while this was happening, your own portion was cooling off.   
  
"It's good," Yuuki said, genuinely meaning it.  For a hodge-podge concoction of whatever was available and would never be found in a proper recipe book, it was the first substantial hot meal he'd had in a long time.   
  
You had been trying to be as objective as possible, not wanting to give the wrong idea, but found yourself softening and returning a gentle "thank you" in response.   
  
The combination of dried fruit with condensed milk was sure to be almost too sweet, but you wanted him to eat both for their vitamin and mineral content, and calories, fat and protein, respectively.  Yuuki didn't complain.  The apple and pear he could eat on his own, giving you the chance to finally eat while he gnawed on the crisp fruit, sharply tart in his mouth after the sweetness of the condensed milk.  The warmth of the tea soothed his hand from the mug as well as his insides as he drank it.   
  
No words were exchanged between you two for some time, he in bed and you slowly rocking in your chair, stroking Herzog who had taken residence on your lap.  You were staring at the man and making no secret about it, but he was not unnerved by the attention.   
  
When the mugs were empty and all residual heat from them was gone, you gathered everything up on the tray, added more wood to the fireplace, and encouraged Yuuki to sleep.  You would be back in a few hours to change his bandages, you said, hoping you were not wrong in thinking you would not need to use that rifle again.   
  
****  
  
The days that followed were like a strange, waking dream.  As if you were living some storybook version of your life, with the same or similar elements here and there, but still removed from reality.   
  
There was a lightness to you that you had trouble understanding.  Despite the winter cold and shorter periods of daylight, you felt far more enthused to get up and go about your daily duties.  There was more work that you needed to do, but you never viewed it as a chore.  Previously, days ran together in one indistinct blur, whereas now your mind was always active, thinking of tackling various projects that you had shelved for one reason or another, what meal you could prepare today, and whether he was feeling any better.   
  
Yuuki was actually going through a similar experience.  He was still committed to his mission, but he had periods where his mind preferred to abandon thinking about duty and how to return to Japan, and instead linger here in this isolated lodge.   
  
Frankly, you made it too easy for him to think this way.  Like him, you didn't care to pry when it was made clear that the walls are there for a reason and they're not coming down.  You didn't find the itchy pull to fill silence with chatter.  Being in the company of such a person that he did not have to actively play a role for provided a disarming relief, and the same could be said for yourself.   
  
Many times you would both sit in silence while eating, or listen to the fire crackling as you rocked in your chair and he sat in bed, but other times you had small conversations.  Or rather, one of you would speak while the other would listen.   
  
You tell the story of how you chased a rabbit outside of this lodge once when you were four, and tripped and fell in the process, earning yourself a star-shaped scar on your knee.  He talks about faraway places with sand as white as the clouds above and soft as powder, and blue oceans as clear as glass.  You begin with the subject of phrenology to lead into an observation about how humans desperately seek predictable patterns in all things so that they can be controlled.  He described Hieronymous Bosch's _The Garden of Earthly Delights_ triptych in great detail, from the surreal and hedonistic center panel to the nightmarishly fascinating hellscape with bizarre creatures meting out poetic justice to the sinners.    
  
The topics were inane and relatively irrelevant--they had to be, so that you didn't learn anything of each other that could be used against you by others--but they were no less compelling.  But this probably had more to do with the speaker than the subjects.  After spending so much time alone with just you and Herzog, it was like a gust of fresh air being pumped into your lungs to speak and hear someone else's voice.  And this man's voice, you especially liked.   
  
The snow continued on and off.  To save on firewood and have as little smoke coming from the house as possible, you spent most of your time in the same room, changing Yuuki's bandages, mending old clothes, going through an inventory of your pantry, and doing routine maintenance on household tools.  Now and again you peeked through all the windows, made sure everything was locked and checked your rifle, but no one else ever came calling.  The universe consisted of the hunting lodge with just you, Herzog, and your patient/guest as its masters. 

It felt very peaceful.   
  
Eventually, Yuuki had regained enough strength that he said he wanted to try moving around.  Sitting up was already managed after a labourious minute, so standing and walking were up next on the list.  You would have advised against it, but you knew he was merely telling you, not asking permission.  So you pulled back the covers and bent down to give him your shoulder as he grunted and creaked into a vertical stance.  
  
"I'm okay," he said.  You nodded and gently separated from him, taking a few steps back to stand by the doorway.    
  
He breathed audibly but evenly, pacing himself to get the rust out of his limbs.  His bare feet were cold on the floor, but if anything it focused his mind and allowed him to keep a firmer grip on the creaky wood.  The windows rattled to muffle the sound of his footsteps; tonight the snowfall was coming in especially fiercely, but the three of you were so used to it at this point that the noise hardly registered.    
  
Your eyes were fixed on Yuuki as he moved around the room.  There was a careful elegance to the way he moved, not at all like the lumbering, caveman-ish habits of so many other men that you'd observed.  He was wearing an old set of your father's sleepwear, with the shirt opened so that it was easier to change his bandages.  

By the third day of his rehabilitative exercises, Yuuki was faster and more mobile, and many of his superficial cuts and scrapes had healed to the point that there were fading red marks on his skin, though his left side and arm were still partially covered. 

Up until now, you had viewed him more coldly as a patient, something to repair, but now that he was in better health and walking around, he was becoming redefined in your eyes as a man--a living, young, attractive man, at that, with an impressive, fit body, even with the injuries and damaged arm.  His physique was well-proportioned, but not particularly large; clothed, he would look very unassuming and quite average.  Unclothed, however, you could tell that not only did he have a fair bit of strength, but coordination to back it up. No doubt he could do a lot with those arms, those legs...  

No matter how many times you'd try to dispel those less-than-pure thoughts, they always snuck back into your mind.  There were instances when you thought he might be looking at you as if he'd detected what you were thinking, but with his long obscuring his eyes, it was hard to tell. 

"How does it feel?"  You blurted out the question in an attempt to distract from your line of thought, but the words sounded throaty.  Immediately you felt your face burn and were compelled to look away, but that would be too obvious, so you fought to keep your eyes on him.    
  
"Better," Koushaku said, staring back at you.  He was at the other end of the room now, his hand against the wall for support.  "Still feel stiff, but I think that's more from the lack of movement than injuries." 

You could actually relate to that.  Lately you were restless and anxious, but not due to cabin fever.  "Well, give your wounds more credit--you _did_ arrive here at death's door." 

"I'd hardly call this place death's door.  I've lived quite well here--better than a number of places over the past few months, in fact." 

You twitched your mouth up into a smile, but it flattened quickly. 

Taking a few slow breaths, Yuuki leaned his back on the wall.  "I will be able to leave here very soon."

There was a lump in your throat that took a while to force down.  "Yes," you answered dully.  "It isn't ideal, but..."

"Nothing about my circumstances is ideal," he said with a rueful smile.  Was it arrogant of you to think that he was talking about more than being an injured fugitive?

"Do you want to take a bath?"

Koushaku raised an eyebrow.  "With you?" 

Had you asked that question out loud?  Your eyes widened and your mouth gaped, but only for a second.  "N--no, I just meant the hot water might help with your stiff muscles." 

He smiled, and you thought your heart might melt.  "That would be wonderful, actually.  If it's not too much trouble." 

"I was going to take one anyway, so no, it's not.  It'll take a while to heat the water, so we can-- _you_ can take it after we eat.  I'll start preparing it now." 

It took you a heap of self-control to walk and not run out of the room. 

****

Yuuki continued walking around while you busied yourself with the food.  He was in fact in better shape than he let on, but it was a habit of his to not reveal truths about himself.    He could make his way into town, provided he was dressed appropriately.  The storm would slow him down, but it would also cover his tracks.  He would be able to evade Wolff and his men easily. 

Dinner was another feast, with a larger serving for him than usual.  You kept stealing glances at him, but he never called you on it.  Hard to be accusatory when he was doing the same thing when you weren't looking. 

The bathroom connected directly from your room, and was almost the same size, with ample room for the claw-footed tub filled with steaming water.  Once Yuuki was sitting in it, every worn out inch of him sighed with relief, though he couldn't help but be a little disappointed that you hadn't taken him up on his suggestion.  After soaking for several minutes, he pulled himself out and dried off.  His hair remained a little wet, and it made his head feel cool, but he didn't mind. 

Back in the bedroom he found you adding more wood to the fireplace, orange sparks dancing in the air like miniature stars.  Rather than speaking, he let his steps go over the creakiest parts of the floor to alert you to his presence.  A comfortable yet controlled smile formed on your face as you went over to him. 

He stilled.  It was the look of someone who'd come to make an important decision. 

"Feel better?" you asked. 

"Much, thank you."

"I'll help you to your bed, lean on my shoulder." 

"I'm fine."

"Don't be rude--take an opportunity if it's offered to you." 

Yuuki looked at you, hearing the weight in your words.  The atmosphere of light conversation had fizzled out, replaced with something less innocent.  You looked right back at him as you guided him slowly back to the bed, hands gripping him firmly. 

The understanding was already between you both, yet he still found himself surprised as you eased him down onto the bed, then climbed on top.  You merely hovered above his hips, keeping your weight on your legs--but he could still feel heat quickly building under the blanket of your skirt.  With angelic slowness you descended to bring your face to his, letting him see you up close for a few seconds before you kissed him. 

Yuuki barely moved at first, taking his time to learn the feel on that small part of you on his mouth.  Then his lips desired to explore in greater detail, and began pressing and unpressing against yours, changing the angle at which they met and then returning again, opening up to taste each other.  His hand caressed the side of your head and he sighed to finally know what your hair felt like, and you reciprocated by landing your palms on his shoulders, gliding to his chest, partially exposed from his open shirt.  He breathed deep, sensing your touch like a brand. 

Eventually he pushed you away, catching a glimpse of your pink tongue that had a thread of saliva linking to his before it disappeared into your mouth. 

"Should I ask if this is an opportunity?" he asked out of an uncharacteristic obligation to fill the silence rather than any attempt at wit. 

You sank down to sit on his hips, making both of you tilt your heads back at the delicious pressure being applied.  "I think we both know what this is... and what this isn't," you murmured. 

Yuuki's hand slid onto your covered thigh.  "Yes," he said.  "We do." 

This was not the norm for you.  You were cautious and standoffish by nature, two features which had only been exacerbated by the war.  Yet you were not nervous at all, removing your clothes without ease and filled with desire for this relative stranger. 

Maybe that was why you were comfortable with this.  By not knowing each other, there were no stakes, no risks of being hurt. 

With your dress and chemise on the floor, your panties were the only thing you had left on.  Yuuki sat up straight and kissed you, shuffling his arms as you helped him get his shirt off.  He grunted once, prompting you to stop and wonder if he'd aggravated one of his injuries, but he snatched at the small of your back and brought you so that your bare chest was flush with his, so you let it go. 

His lips traveled south, nibbling at your neck and collarbone.  You looped your arms around him to clutch at his head, hissing air through your teeth as he palmed your backside, kneading the ample flesh there. 

Resisting the urge to shove him back, you settled for a firm push, making sure he was lying down again before you slid back, removing his pants as you did.  Your eyes flickered between looking at Yuuki's face and the evidence of his arousal that stood up between you two, feeling your mouth go dry while another entrance became wet.  In a second your panties were off, and you crawled on all fours to be face to face with him again. 

Was it just the firelight, or his honest lust that was making him look so much more radiant to you right now? 

Stretching to the side, you opened the drawer of the nightstand and retrieved a condom in a paper packet.  You caught Yuuki's amused look and shyly smiled in reply.  Tearing the paper, you took out the condom and rolled it onto him, staring at the length hungrily.  Just when you were about to lower yourself, his hand grabbed your wrist. 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked carefully, staring straight into your eyes. 

You blinked, then deadpanned, "If you try to stop this now, I'm going to go get my rifle."

Yuuki arched an eyebrow and gave a genuine, unguarded laugh.  He reached for your face, and you bent to kiss him while pushing down to impale yourself onto him.  He hissed, you gasped, then as you encased him all the way, you exhaled together. 

The rest of the world was winter white and freezing, but inside this hidden sanctuary, everything was bathed red and orange, reflecting how hot it was.  It had been far too long, but also you fit together so well, you and this stranger.  Experimentally, you gyrated and swiveled your hips in figure-eights, feeling as wonderfully indecent as you looked. 

Yuuki's sole remaining hand worked double-time to fondle you, stroking over your waist and cupping your breast to toy with your nipple.  He instinctively found the rhythm you were flowing with and matched it perfectly, subtly pushing and pulling his hips, working in tandem to bring you both closer to rapture.  He knew you had gotten on top so that it was less strain on him as the injured party, but it wasn't as though he didn't appreciate this position, considering the view.  The fireplace was the only source of light in the bedroom, casting tantalizing plays of shadows on your body as you moved like you were possessed. 

He had never anticipated things would lead to this when he'd first arrived on your doorstep.  At best, maybe you two would have tolerated each other before he'd leave.  Instead, a sort of kindred perspective had been formed, where your presence and essence was seen and accepted, while the common societal facts were left untold.  The sex that was happening right now served to only cement this unique intimacy, to assure you both that this was not just some sort of dream. 

Regardless of whether or not he was injured, Yuuki was not about to turn in anything other than an exceptional performance.  Ignoring your breathy complaints, his hand left your breast and traveled to the place where you were joined.  He easily found your clit; it was swollen and shining, as if screaming for attention.  The moment the pad of his thumb rubbed against it, you jerked and clamped up around him. 

"Keep going," he said calmly, the ragged breaths shooting from his mouth giving away just how on edge he was.  "I want to see it." 

Your moan then came more from his words than his touch, knowing they would sustain you for a very long time. 

Shifting slightly, you moved up and down along his length, your eyes closing frequently and throat being taxed from how much you were panting and crying out.  The thumb stayed with your clit as you bounced, making you more frantic and wanton with each second. 

Even with all that Yuuki had experienced, he had never had sex that was as loud as it was right now.  Of course, in all previous encounters, he was usually in a place where other people were not too far away, be it a hotel room, house, bar, train, car, or, in one memorable instance, a church while mass was taking place (it was justified; the mission was a success because of it).  But here there was no need to restrain oneself, so the creaking of the bed, the headboard banging against the wall, and your keening and his grunting rang out loudly in the entire lodge as a ribald symphony. 

Soon you stopped moaning, and your eyes flew open, wide as saucers before screwing shut again as you thrashed and yelled, completely at the mercy of your orgasm.  You were still coming when Yuuki clamped onto your rear and bucked harshly, skin slapping against skin like thunder until he too lost control, releasing himself with a dragged-out groan. 

With all the grace of a drunk, you climbed off and fell onto your side next to Yuuki, the remnants of aftershocks rippling through you.  You didn't bother opening your eyes when you felt Yuuki moving, as you deduced from the sound that he was removing the condom and tossing it into the wastebasket.  Just as the coolness of the air began to reach you again, a body just as sweaty as your own shielded your back and legs. 

"Are you all right?" Yuuki asked, his breaths huffing by your ear. 

You laughed softly and rolled your eyes.  "The injured man is asking _me_ if I'm okay?" 

"Did I feel like an injured man?" 

"I suppose not."  You wanted to look at him again, so you rolled over to face him.  His hair was still damp, but more from perspiration than the bath; the messiness of it was incredibly attractive.  When you let your fingertips ghost over his bound left arm and towards his chest, he closed his eyes to focus on your touch. 

"Do you feel pain anywhere?" you asked while placing your hand over his heart.  The pulses could be felt like a distant drum. 

Looking at you, he answered, "No, nowhere new."  He shifted to bring up his own hand to stroke around your breasts, lingering in the valley where your own heart was. 

"Hmm," you mumbled.  You both stayed that way for a while, not saying anything. 

In fact, that was the last time you had said anything to each other.

The second time was slower, with your back sliding against his chest, rocking together.  The bandaged end of his left arm brushed against your side more than once, and peculiarly, it made you shudder each time.  There were soft bites, kisses, and hungry licks of the skin, and lingering close-ups of each other's eyes, clouded with lust.  You were so close to each other that you felt like a single being, reaching your shaking completion almost simultaneously. 

The fireplace had turned a dull burgundy when Yuuki left the bed, making sure to cover your sleeping form.  He carefully added a couple more logs to the fire so that the room would not be too cold, and closed the door behind him as he exited. 

No other lights were on in the lodge besides a few lamps turned to their lowest, but it was more than enough for Yuuki.  More than enough for him to see what you had left for him on the dining room table. 

A change of winter clothes, boots, a hat, gloves and a scarf.  Clean bandages, some dried food, and an FN Model 1910 pistol with a 7-round .32 ACP magazine.  A hand-drawn map with clear instructions leading from the lodge to the nearest town by using a shortcut through the forest. 

Yuuki stared for a good long minute at your goodbye, absorbing the faintly clattering windows, the dark, uneven wooden floor and the permanent smell of wood smoke and leather. 

This was not for him, this place, this life.  It was yours, and he would ruin it if he stayed.  Even if that weren't the case, he still needed to go home.  He had a job to do.

He changed into the winter clothes and put all of the supplies into his pockets.  The scarf was wide and hid much of his face when wrapped around him, and there were two layers of long underwear provided that made his frame seem bulkier.  As he picked up the heavy wool coat, he saw there was one more gift underneath it: a piece of wood, wrapped in an old stocking with a long loop hanging from one end.  It was the length of a forearm, and the loop could be hung over a shoulder like a purse, filling out the inside of a sleeve.  With one of the gloves pulled over the end, he could easily pass as having two arms. 

The pistol was small enough that he could hide it in his coat pocket.  He had no intention of using it, but anyone who might come after him didn't know that.

He carried his boots as he walked towards the back door so as not to wake you with his footsteps.  As he was tying the laces, something furry brushed against him from behind.  Herzog, having retreated to the upstairs to avoid the ruckus you two were making, had finally come down now that the fuss was over.  He gave Yuuki a knowing look, and walked through his legs, rubbing and arching his back. 

Yuuki gave a dry smirk, and scratched behind Herzog's head.  "Take care of your master for me," he whispered.  Herzog purred in agreement. 

Outside, the snow fluttered down from above.  Ahead was a woodshed, and beyond that the forest that was depicted on the map. 

As the door was firmly shut, an elusive ache swam around Yuuki.  He allowed it a moment of existence, then locked it away. 

Tucking his fake arm into his pocket, he began trudging through the dark, going further and further away from his one regret.  His tracks were swallowed up by the snow before dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing for bittersweet endings, I guess. 
> 
> I think relationships for Yuuki would generally never turn out well, since he's too committed to his job/mission/duty. 
> 
> And so the Clandestine series ends! I hope you were happy to be along for the ride!


End file.
